


Newsies One Shots

by Orolly



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Spralbert, sprace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:42:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orolly/pseuds/Orolly
Summary: Small Newsies one-shots, probably mostly Sprace.





	1. Sprace

"Race-" 

"Shut up! That's enough, I'm done, I can't-"

"Race,"

"You can't keep doing this Spot! You're gonna wind up dead and I won't even know! You'll just be-" 

"Tony." 

Race pauses, his chest is heaving, but he doesn't say anything.

"Tony," Spot says again and reaches slowly for his hand, watching Race's eyes as he carefully folds his fingers in between the other's. 

Race licks his lips and glances over at Spot. His eyes are wide, frantic. 

"I- you're tryin' to get yourself killed." Race shakes his head, willing the thought away. Tears are pressing the corners of his eyes. 

"This isn't okay."

"I know." Spot pushes the blond curls away from Race's forehead. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to the crease between Race's brow. "I'll be more careful, okay? For you, I can be careful." 

Race scoffs. When he speaks, his voice is watery. "Want you to be careful for yourself, dumbass." 

Spot half smiles at him. "Maybe we'll just start with it bein' for you." 

Race looks at him with pure adoration. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Spot's neck and puts a little pressure under his hand to persuade Spot forward into a gentle kiss. 

"Maybe that's a good place to start."


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race messed up his arm and is Not Happy about it.

Race pushed Jack away from him as best he could with a busted arm. Seething rage helped, but not by much.

“I can carry my own damn papers!” Race yelled and Jack threw up his hands in anger. 

“Your arms busted to shit! It ain’t supposed to bend like that, Racer! Hand ‘em over you ain’t sellin’ today.” 

“Why do you think I can’t take care of myself? You ain’t my mother, you ain’t in charge of me! I’m my own damn person and if I say ’m sellin’ today then ’m sellin’ today!” 

Race took the papers back from Jack and his face turned pale as excruciating pain shot up his arm. He grit his teeth and tried to breathe through it. It faded to something more manageable after a minute, and Race realized Jack was holding his papers up. 

“Hands off, Kelly.” 

Jack didn’t let go. “I really, really don’t think you should go out today.”

Race breathed in slow to calm himself. “Look, I get that you think I’m not strong enough or smart enough or whatever but-”

Jack cuffed him the back of the head. “No, you ARE strong, I ain’t doubting that you’re standing here fightin’ me for chrissakes. Your arms just real bad and you should rest, and get it popped back into place so you can come back tomorrow, okay? I’m just worried about you and I don’t want you suffering an injury you don’t need to suffer.” 

Race glared at him. “Fine.” 

Jack sighed. “Racer-” 

“I said it’s fine. I’m going home.” Race starts walking away, deliberately not towards the lodgings. 

“You’re headed towards Brooklyn, dumbass.” Jack yelled after him. 

Race flipped him off over his shoulder and kept walking.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot has a panic attack.

Race kisses Spot’s neck and he feels his heartbeat pick up but swallows hard and tries to ignore it. He’s not doing much back to Race, he sits there and lets it happen. He eventually moves his hand to pet Race’s hair softly, but his hearts not in it. He’s trying to focus on being in the moment, but it's hard when the way Race nips at his ear throws him years into the past. 

He whimpers a little and pulls away, and Race laughs a bit. 

“Everything okay, Spot?” He looks Spot in the eyes, and his smile is as soft and gentle as his words. Its so different from the harsh “shut up or someone will find us” that he’d been fearing that it draws him back into the moment for a second. He smiles shakily and nods. 

Everythings okay for a few minutes until Race draws his hand softly across Spot’s hip bone, which shoots a wave of panic up his spine. His breath catches in his throat, and he freezes, hoping Race would just stop. 

He doesn’t.

He rubs a small circle over the bone and Spot can’t move. 

He’s stopped breathing, his tremoring a bit, and Race just doesn’t notice. Spot shuts his eyes tight fighting back tears. He’s not scared of Race, Race would never…. but then again… HotShot would never either. 

Eventually, he fights his panic enough to slap Race’s hand away. 

“Spot? What-” 

Spot scrambles backward and pulls his knees to his chest to protect himself. 

“Spottie? Baby, what’s wrong?” Race reaches for him and Spots eyes go wide, he can feel it, he can feel how scared he is and he hates it. 

“Don’t touch me.” It’s barely a whisper, almost a question and just enough to break Race’s heart. 

Race sits back and puts his hands where Spot can clearly see them, and he doesn’t try to reach for him again. 

“Do you want to stop?” Race asks gently. 

Spot shrugs. He hides his face in his knees so Race can’t see his tears, but his hands are still shaking. 

“We’ll stop baby, it’s okay. Okay? I love you and you’re very clearly not in the mood for this tonight. That’s okay, alright baby? I’m not upset.” 

Spot believes Race, he does, but his body doesn’t seem to agree with his head. 

He nods slowly and hugs his knees tighter. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Race sounds so… lost. 

“I think I need to be alone for a minute.” Spot mumbles. He doesn’t want Race to leave, he doesn’t want him to be upset, but he can’t look at him right now, and hearing him breathe and shift around on the bed is too much. 

Race doesn’t say anything, so Spot assumes he must have nodded, and stands to leave the room. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready, I love you.” The door shuts softly and Race’s footsteps fade as he goes down the short hallway. 

Spot rocks back and forth for a bit, trying to breathe despite the way the air seems to fight him on that. 

He’s yelling at himself in his head to get his act together and just breath like a normal fucking person, dammit. 

He punches the mattress, frustrated. Within a few minutes, the panic seems to ebb and fade, and the tightness in his chest lossens. He stands up and wipes his eyes just in case. He finds an old sweatshirt on the floor, one that comes down past his hands, one of Race’s from high school with holes in the cuff and small stains on the front. He loves it though, it feels safe, warm, and comfortable, just like Race. 

He opens the door quietly and walks slowly to the living room. He sits next to Race and pulls his legs up onto the couch. 

Race doesn’t try to touch him back, and Spot appreciates it, it feels like control, which calms him down a little more. Race won’t hurt him, Race won’t make him do something he doesn’t want to. Spot breathes out slowly. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

Race wastes no time in hugging him tightly and whispering soft encouragements into his hair.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft Spralbert. Race makes dinner and the boys watch a movie.

Spot has his arms wrapped loosely around Albert’s waist as the taller boy digs through the cupboard trying to find the pepper grinder for Race. Spot’s between Albert and the counter, and he’s honestly just happy to be hugging his boyfriend after a long day. Albert makes a small noise of victory when he finds the pepper and he leans over to the side a bit to hand the pepper to Race. Race smiles gratefully and meets Albert halfway for a quick kiss before he goes back to fussing over the Alfredo sauce he’s working on for dinner. Spot kisses Albert’s jawline softly to steal his attention back. Albert laughs a little and looks down at him smiling sappily. Spot smiles up at him softly as he cups Spot’s face and brushes his thumb across his cheek. 

They stare at each other for a while, just happy to be home, happy that the three of them finally have a night together to just hang out and relax. The sound of the boiling water and the smell of the Alfredo sauce fills the room making Spot feel safe and warm. Comfortable, after a stressful day of classes, and a test he’s pretty sure he failed. He doesn’t realize that Race has the stove turned off until he has his hand in Spot’s hair, persuading Spot to turn his face toward him. 

“Hey, foods done.” Race says quietly, slipping into the arm that Albert puts around his back. Spot pulls him in as well and Race meets him halfway for a soft kiss. The kitchenette can barely fit one of them, let alone three, so they’re all squished together between the two small counters. Spot laces his fingers in Race’s hair, and Race smiles at him. 

“As lovely as standing here is,” Albert says, gaining the attention of both of his boyfriends, “we have a perfectly good couch, and some nice hot food prepared by our lovely boyfriend, so let’s sit down and eat?” Albert worms his way out of the embrace and Race moves closer to Spot so Albert can get the plates out of the cupboard. 

“Watch your head, babe.” Albert puts his hand on the back of Race’s head so the cupboard door doesn’t hit him. Race ducks his head and decides it’s a perfect opportunity to meet Spot for a soft, slow kiss. Spot sighs into it, letting his eyes flutter shut. Race cards his fingers in Spot’s hair, his other hand on the small of his back as he presses him closer to the counter. 

Albert laughs breathily and pokes at Spot’s cheek. Spot breaks the kiss to look up at Albert, and Race winds his arms around Spot, mouthing gently at his neck. 

“You two,” Albert says, kissing the top of Race’s head, and then Spot’s, “Are adorable, but the foods gonna get cold, so let’s get a move on, okay?” 

Albert slips passed them and dishes up a fair amount of pasta onto each plate. Albert grabs a plate and heads to the living room. He sets his plate down on the coffee table, then snags the remote and flops down on the couch. “What do you two wanna watch tonight?” 

Race and Spot meet him on the couch, Spot in the middle with his head resting on Albert’s shoulder. He’s got his plate in his lap and he’s slowly spinning pasta around his fork as Race and Albert try to decide on a show.

“We watched the Great British Bake Off yesterday-“   
“Okay, but it’s good so-“   
“Spot’s not caught up on Brooklyn 99 why don’t we-“   
“Raaaace, I watched that this morning!”   
“You- you had class this morning, Al, what the fuck?”   
“Why don’t we just, Spot, what do you want to watch?” 

Spot blinks and watches the pasta fall off of his fork. “Mm… Can we watch a Ghibli movie or something? I’m tired.” 

Race kisses the top of his head, and Albert squeezes his shoulder before they go back to playfully arguing about which one to watch. 

Spot sets his plate on the coffee table and snuggles up to Race. Somehow, Albert’s hand has ended up in Spot’s hair, and Spot’s playing with Race’s fingers idly. 

Race taps his shoulder to make sure he’s got his attention. 

“Hm?” Spot looks up at him. 

“We’re gonna watch Howl’s moving castle if that okay?” 

Spot nods and lays back down with his head in Race’s lap. Race reaches over Spot to hold Albert’s hand, and his other finding its way to play with Spot’s hair. 

Albert stretches to hit the light switch, his elbow digging into Spot’s side making him squirm a bit trying to throw Albert off, which causes Al to lose his balance and smack the light switch wildly with swinging arms instead of just flicking it off like a normal human being.

He settles back into the couch almost immediately, his hand returning to its place in Race’s. The movie starts, and they’ve all seen it enough to not have to pay attention, but Spot appreciates the lack of running commentary that would usually accompany something like this. He finds himself drifting off to sleep. Race’s fingers softly combing through his hair make it hard to keep his eyes open, and Albert’s weight as he leans against him is comforting. The quiet jokes his boyfriends make have him smiling softly as he falls into a light sleep.


	5. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's trying to paint, Spot's being annoying.

Jack’s sitting at the table with his legs pulled up under him and his head bent low over a piece of paper. Spot watches slightly amused as Jack sticks out his tongue and knits his brow in concentration. He’s trying so hard to stay steady that his hand is shaking with focus. He doesn’t even know Spot’s watching him, he can’t hear anything over the music in his headphones that Spot can hear clear across the room. 

Spot walks up behind him and stands on his toes trying to see the paper that’s blocked by Jack’s head. He squints at it. The sketch isn’t very clear, and the cheap watercolors run together in a mess Spot can’t decipher. 

“What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, tapping Jack on the shoulder. 

Jack starts and tears off his headphones. He looks down at his paper, frustrated.

“What the hell, Spot?! You scared me, now it’s all messed up!” His eyes are watering a bit, it’d been looking really good, too, and now it’s all ruined. 

“It looks the same to me. What’s it supposed to be?”

Jack tries to glare at him, but it doesn’t work with the embarrassed blush that climbs up his cheeks. 

“It’s Santa Fe.” He mumbles.

Spot laughs. “Again?” 

Jack shields his paper from Spot defensively. “I can paint whatever I want.” 

“I mean, sure Jackie, but. Again?” 

“Just go away, I’m working.” He puts his headphones back in and fiddles with his paintbrush until Spot gives up with and leaves. 

Spot has homework anyway, and Race said he could come over. Bothering Race is a lot more fun than watching his foster brother mope over some art project anyway.


End file.
